


Of Gods and Monsters, Saga 3/Edda 6: Sombra, the Self-Made

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [19]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Background Relationships, Blueberry Lemon Tea, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Conditioning, F/F, Friendship, Lies, Memories, Memory Alteration, Moicy, Oasis (Overwatch), Pain, Past Brainwashing, Pharmercy, Poly Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Polyamory, Rebirth, Secrets, Suffering, Talon Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Talon Emily "Oilliphéist" Gardner, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Talon Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Talon!Emily, Talon!Mercy, Talon!Symmetra, Transformation, Unreliable Narrator, Utopaea (Overwatch), Widowtracer, Widowtracerly, awareness, gingerspider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 09:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Moira O’Deorain has won. Her rivals within Talon destroyed, her trio of loyal Weapons - the Changed and copper-eyed Tracer, the silver-eyed Oilliphéist, and golden-eyed Widowmaker - at her command, to remake the world.Satya Vaswani offered Sombra a chance to become a member of their elite - a 'Goddess,' alongside her. Widowmaker has promised that there is a place for her within Talon. But Sombra won't accept any offer blindly. Not without knowing exactly what is going on first.This story - a side-step/alternate-ending sequel toThe Armourer and the Living Weapon- will be told in a series of eddas, sagas, fragments, texts, and cantos, all of which serve their individual purposes. To follow it as it appears,please subscribe to the series.





	1. Cast No Shadow

Sombra frowned at the banks of displays she had pulled up in front of her. 

_It doesn’t make sense._

On one level, even after the deaths of Ogundimu and Reyes, things within Talon seemed to be business as usual. Little brushfire wars popping up here and there, certain groups being built up, others smacked down. A company suffering “accidents” to affect their stock price and ability to deliver product. A government official or two being put under their thumb. 

But if you went deeper, things were looking very, very different. 

Increased priority to environmental stabilization. Medical research being stepped up. Extremist groups that might have been cultivated or exploited being shut down, instead. 

_Materials development? Setting up scholarship funds in Numbani? What **is** all this?_

At first she’d thought Ziegler, Oxton, and Amari were just puppets to O’Deorain’s weird scheme, but Satya’s involvement had given her some doubts, and _this..._

Sombra put her head in her hands and groaned. “It _looks_ real. But it can’t be. Two-tone was never going to let them push her plans around like this.”

_Unless... something else changed. Something the Doc didn’t expect._

Her favorite spider might be able to tell her, but Sombra wasn’t sure Widowmaker would be able to understand the differences. Satya _might_ , but she didn’t know enough about what Moira had been planning from the start. 

_And if she made me that offer again... I don’t know if I could say no to her twice._

She needed an outsider. Someone who knew enough about what had been done to Oxton and the others to give her some answers, and maybe see if she could figure out the rest from there. 

Sombra blanked the windows and started writing new datamining protocols. 

_Everything can be hacked. You just have to figure out the best way in._

\-----

"Hey, there."

Dr. Ngcobo didn't turn, or even flinch, as he sat at the small Chon Buri cafe. He merely motioned towards the seat opposite him. "So. The infamous Sombra, at last."

"I have to admit, Slate - even for me, you're not the easiest guy to find."

"Slate?"

Sombra smirked as she walked around the table. "I like using nicknames for people."

"As in blank slate?"

"What? Nah, it's just your eye colour, that's all. Grey eyes. Slate," she said, sitting down.

"Ah," he said, sipping at his tea. "Well, we're here. And you - I'm led to understand - are no longer with your former friends."

She grinned, a little wistfully, and ordered a glass of cha dam yen as the waiter stepped over.

"Friends... maybe. Talon, no. Talon wasn't ever anything more than a means to an end for me, anyway. Uncovering all the secrets."

"I have that impression," he said. "But you're still dancing with that particular devil, aren't you? Do not deny it."

She laughed, waving her hands. "Ah, amigo, I’m trying to have a _friendly-_ ”

Michael’s voice was as flat and hard as a piece of the rock she’d nicknamed him for. "What was their offer?"

She stopped, gave him another measuring look, and stopped pretending. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Before you accept it?"

She snorted, a little. "I wasn't a Los Muertos errand girl, I wasn't Talon's puppet, I'm not gonna become another one of Moira's... whatever they are. Though I don't think they're slaves. Not all of them, at least. No - I want to figure out what this _is_ , before I know what I need to do."

Dr. Ngcobo peered at her, carefully. "You have connections to people on the inside, don't you? Use them."

Sombra shifted, uncomfortably, sipping at her drink. "Widowmaker - the old Widowmaker, the original one - and I were friends. I didn't think so much of her girlfriend, but whatever. We kept in touch... to a point... until I had to go dark."

The doctor took a sip from his mug. "And nothing since?"

"..."

"You wash my back, I wash yours..."

"She contacted me, using an emergency padd I'd provided. She sounded mostly like herself, but different, and she said she and Lena and Emily were... connected, somehow. That it was worth it. That make any sense to you?"

"I think it might. I'd been thinking about that since before London happened." The doctor tapped the top of the table with one finger. "We'd noted - Angela, and I, before - that the three of them seemed awfully... handsy. Always touching, sometimes hand to hand, sometimes hand to face, to mouth, sometimes other places, but always, lots of touch. Particularly where there are a lot of nerve clusters, close to the surface."

He leaned forward, gesturing with his hands. "And we knew that Oxton's peripheral nervous system had been completely rebuilt, and Guillard's as well, and - we presumed - Gardner's. It's ... not completely unlike a human nervous system, but it's quite different in many ways. It wouldn't surprise me too much if it could bridge across subjects, given the right kind of physical proximity."

_Huh_ , she thought. _Like a network. Wonder if it can be DDOSed?_ "So it's, like, a controller, and nodes, and that's how it's handled?"

"I don't think so. But we only ever had really good workups on Tracer." He shook his head. "There was one time, she wanted to hold hands with Widowmaker while she was being scanned... I wish now we'd let them."

"Could this be a two-way thing?" She leaned in, intently. "Could messages, feelings, whatever, go ... both directions?"

He nodded. "Even if someone _intended_ to have some sort of block against that, biology is not that neat, or that clean, or that simple. Everything about how it works depends upon a trippable kind of equilibrium - it's how it, and they, can react so quickly to sensory input. I think it is inevitable that - if they can bridge - it would be bidirectional communication."

"So," the hacker mused, "someone who meant to be a domina _tor_ could become a dominat _ee_... pretty quickly, if she didn't think that could happen. Might even start to think it's her own idea..."

"What are you saying?"

Sombra pulled a padd out of her bag. "I've been tracking Talon's activities - I know a lot more than Overwatch ever did. Some of it's normal Talon bullshit. A lot of it... isn't."

She flipped through a few sets of examples. "Two-tone didn't plan to share power, but there's real money being spent on things she doesn't give a flying fuck about... but that somebody like Lena Oxton or Angela Ziegler _might_."

"So you think there is still something of them in there?"

"I think maybe she picked the wrong materials if she wanted to architect some kind of perfect empire from the top down. Maybe even that there might be a lot more of them running this than anybody - particularly Two-tone - ever expected."

_Architect_ , he caught. _Or is it archi **tech?**_ "You care about more than one person on the inside, don't you?"

She smirked, eyes sharp. _Is that a guess or do you actually know?_ She couldn't be sure, so she bluffed. "Careful, Slate. Don't get the wrong kind of nosey. Might start seeing things that aren't there."

_I'm right_ , he thought, but did not say. "You have, I'm sure, as many blind data drops as you could ever want. Let me keep this padd, and the information on it, and I'll give you my scans of Lena Oxton. Maybe between you, me, and your _contacts_ , we can figure something out?"

"It's like you read my mind."


	2. Intersession

Satya had quickly learned that even with a reduced need for sleep, the demands of her duties within Talon and the commitments of an engaged and active CEO occupied a great deal of her day, somewhat frustrating her desire - her _need_ \- to create. 

_I really must find some adequate proxies to help maintain the company._

Still, she had taken some steps with her new assistant to regiment and manage her time, and Satya was pleased to be able to keep to a routine. 

Which made the rather obvious disruption she was looking at that much more irritating, really. 

“Durga?”

Her assistant’s voice filtered out from the speaker on her desk almost instantly. “Yes, ma’am?”

Satya jabbed at her schedule with the index finger of her inorganic hand. “Why am I booked for a private lunch with no details?”

_It cannot be her. She would be more subtle. Or simply not make an appointment at all._

“Oh, excuse me,” Durga apologized. “I was just updating that.” She could just hear the sound of typing in the background. “The request came from a _Madame_ Guillard, from the Ministry. You’d previously instructed I should arrange your calendar for any such requests.”

Satya hummed to herself as she tapped her fingers against the top of her desk. 

“Please reserve that privilege for Minister O’Deorain or her wife in the future. Anyone else may be marked tentative but should receive my approval.”

Satya found she still enjoyed Lena’s energy in measured doses, but she was not about to allow the copper-eyed Weapon to hijack her calendar. And she still had no idea what to think, yet, about Oilliphéist.

“Of course, Ma’am. My apologies. Should I send a cancellation?”

Satya fell into herself again as she considered. Danielle (or _Widowmaker_ , she wasn’t quite clear what she preferred) requesting her time was... unique. They had little enough in common. 

_Though perhaps we do share an interest in **someone**._

“No. I’ll keep it, thank you. Please arrange for the meal to be served in the garden.”

“Of course.”

Hard light construction didn’t have the same issues with heat islands and absorption stress as conventional building materials, but Vishkar had often incorporated rooftop gardens into their projects. The reductions in energy consumption were helpful, and there were a number of aesthetic appeals. 

_And,_ Satya thought as she waited for her lunch guest, _they provide an excellent space for a private conversation._

Movement near the edge of the garden’s water feature caught her eye. A burst of smoke and shadow, that resolved into the form of her distinctive guest in a flowing blue blouse, dark capris, and wedges, her ponytail spilling down one shoulder. 

“Danielle.” Satya stood, smiling, and offered her hand. “This was unexpected. Is there a situation back in Oasis?”

She needed a moment to adjust to the other woman’s cooler grip, but by the time their hands had separated she felt quite relaxed. 

“Not precisely,” Danielle admitted as she allowed Satya to lead her to the table that had been set up next to one of the larger water features. “More of a personal concern.”

“I see.” Satya gestured to a seat and let Danielle sit before she took her own. “I am happy to help, of course. Shall I have the meal served, and then we can discuss the matter?”

“Yes, thank you.”

At Satya’s signal, a team of servers appeared, delivering a large vegetarian meal to be shared, and a small covered dish of lamb for Danielle, out of respect for her slightly higher metabolism and needs. 

Once they were alone, it wasn’t long before they got to business. 

“You’ve spoken to Olivia,” the Widowmaker said, expertly slicing off a piece of the lamb, and placing it onto her tongue.

The tone was not accusatory, despite the bluntness of the statement, but Satya went still, a cube of paneer hanging from her fork as she considered her answer. 

“I have. Many times, in fact.”

Danielle let out a soft laugh at her phrasing, and Satya allowed herself a little smile. 

“May I ask, then, if you have spoken with her _recently?_ ”

Satya spent perhaps half a second to judge what she knew of the Spider, then and now, before she nodded. “Relatively. She... visited, shortly after I held my first press conferences as the new CEO.”

Danielle’s golden eyes softened as she let out a faint sigh. “Ah.” She set her utensils down, and leaned back slightly, against her chair, tapping at her lips with her napkin. “Was she well?”

The concern in Danielle’s voice took Satya by surprise. “She was. Has she not contacted you? I’ve always found her quite resourceful, when she wished to speak to a friend.”

“Not for several months,” Danielle admitted. “I encouraged her to come home. Perhaps too strongly.” She sighed as she looked up to the latticework overhead, more than a bit of exasperation in her voice. “You know how she can be.”

Satya chuckled. _All too well._ She did care deeply for her clever shadow, but she was also aware that when she was in a mood, Sombra would claim the sky was yellow because too many people were insisting it was blue. 

“I do not know if I would say your approach was too much,” Satya answered. “She sometimes needs to come into things by her own devices.”

Danielle’s shift of posture - ever so slightly more vertical, ever so slightly more forward again - and the hint of excitement in her eyes would have been difficult for Satya to spot before. Now, they were as clear as the petals floating atop the fountain. _She_ may not have changed, but her ability to read others - particularly others like her - had improved markedly.

“Then," the blue woman said, the play of a smile teasing one side of her mouth, "she _is_ coming back.”

Satya picked up her fork again, enjoying a bit more of the excellent meal. “I am quite certain we will see her... eventually. But I believe it will not be until she feels that she is ready.”

Danielle thought on the phrasing - _until **she** is ready_ \- and hummed her acknowledgment, busying herself with a bit of her lamb. “Should there be anything that might be helpful in helping her reach that point, I would insist upon being of aid.”

Satya nodded. “I think there may be some information at the ministry which might be useful.” She gave Danielle a warmer smile. “Perhaps I might visit you for lunch, next week?”

The Weapon smiled, echoing Satya's. "I would, I think, enjoy that greatly."

The architech nodded, pleased, as both women turned more directed attention to their meals. After all, if Satya had learned anything from Olivia - and she had - it was that even among allies, it is always even better to have _friends._

—---

Satya Vaswani kept an open note on her desktop. It looked like - and occasionally served as - a bit of scratchpad, an extension of her already prodigious memory, a place to type items and ideas to be requeued for additional thought or action. But for such a small and simple application - it didn't even have save functionality - the degree of security around it... well. High did not begin to describe it.

And neither did the words "honey pot," but it was that, just as much.

She sat at her desk, back again from Oasis, another lunch with the surprisingly pleasant Widowmaker - _Danielle_ , she thought to herself, _I think_ \- and typed a quick note, in Spanish.

_I suspect I know what you are doing. Do not waste time if I am correct - we are climbing quickly, and extant external technology will not let you keep up for much longer. You should either join us or drop out._

_I know which choice I would prefer. I hope you will agree._

_You will need a variety of highly specific materials. I suspect you have already discovered that they are unavailable except through us. I will provide them, and instructions on how to load and code them, if you are able to acquire an Antarctic Overwinter-class emergency medical rescue pod, and station it safely for a period of no less than three weeks._

_Please do not be left beh..._

As she typed, the text was highlighted, and cleared, and she smiled, as a second cursor began to type purple text.

\-----

Olivia locked the bunker door behind her, securing it, checking again, checking a third time, nervously. It'd been built to ride out a nuclear war, and while it wouldn't have really done that, it might've got pretty close. It made one hell of a last-gasp redoubt - the deepest, most hidey of hidey-holes in her rather extensive collection.

"You still sure you wanna do this, chica?" she asked herself, aloud, as she stripped off her clothing. "This isn't gonna be like last time."

She walked around the extraordinarily expensive remote medical enclosure, built to save lives in dire situations in the most remote locations - deepwater exploration vessels would carry one, South Pole Station had two, the space station had three. It looked almost comfortable, as far as a bed surrounded by medical machinery and a domed glass lid could. But that barely began to describe it, even before she'd augmented it almost as much as she'd augmented herself to become the world's greatest hacker.

Her internal cybernetics spoke to the unit's directly, running through another - a final - pre-flight test suite. The bed didn't actually fly, of course - the term was nonsense, but that's what they called it. Regardless, it checked out: all systems green and ready.

The protective lid opened, system awaiting her. Olivia sat down on the edge, in the gap between the machines on one side of the unit, and asked herself, "Last chance, babe. We can still walk away from this. Go or no go?"

She sat, thinking, thinking hard, paused on the edge. This would change her, she knew, in ways she couldn't know, not entirely, not even with everything she'd learned over the last few months, not even with Ngcobo's data, not even with Satya's help. She'd change. She'd _be_ changed.

But then, that was true of the whole world.

She scooted back, turned, lay down, and told the machine to envelop her. _Life is change_ , she thought, as she brought up the firewalls she'd built inside her own mind. _Let's live._


	3. Edda 6: Sombra, the Self-Made

> _And this Sombra, as they say,_   
>  _was a prodigy,_   
>  _who stole the finest of feathers,_   
>  _which fell with her into the womb of shadow,_   
>  _From this was she conceived,_   
>  _The Self-Made_
> 
> _She descended upon the water,_   
>  _Reflected in the glistening surface;_   
>  _Beautiful as the sacred Baalche',_   
>  _Brilliant as the serpent;_   
>  _She wrote her words across the skies;_   
>  _'Now I have left behind me my suffering.'_

Sombra screamed, again, or tried to. Her throat, though, wouldn't let her. But it made her pay for the attempt, in even more pain.

_God, oh god, oh god, it **hurts**. How do they, how did they, how..._

The hacker panted, on the border of hyperventilation - _no, no, girl, get your breathing under control, get your breathing_ \- "AH!" The machine wanted to save her from this pain, or some of it, as much as it could, but she would not let it, and so, it could not.

Five days of this, so far. The first two hadn't been so bad. The third... had been. Her vision had left her, a day after that, not that there was so much to see. She'd expected that, and her cybernetics told her - as she confirmed the latest round of retrovirals - that she remained on track. Vitals were... as good as could expected... and within predicted ranges. The saline drip maintained her hydration; the glucose and micronutrient drip kept her cells working, as they reformed, as the retrovirus rewrote them, rewrote _her_ , rewrote who she was - physically, for certain, and mentally, too.

But to her own design, not Moira's. She would be herself, but more - but _completely_ herself, and by her own hand.

She hadn't expected it to feel so much like fire. _Why, why, why, why, why does everything, everything, everything, everything, **burn**..._

The nervous system upgrades. Of course. They'd come from Satya, Satya, who wanted her enough to help, secretly, wanted her enough to provide some data, some _samples_ , so they could be... aligned... when the deed had been done, but she couldn't trust it, not unconscious, no, she had to be awake, she had to be _aware..._ she had to _know_ , the _entire_ time...

The firewall she'd built in her mind gave her less space than she'd hoped, less buffer than she'd hoped, less distance, but still, enough, just barely, to hold on, so far. _Focus away, focus away, focus away,_ she thought, listening to the endless beat and hum and song of the networks, of the machines, and it helped.

Composed, a little, she checked her internal calendar. _This, this, this is gonna be bad, but it should be the..._ and her mind dissolved, enveloped, completely, in a new wave of pain.

Without her aware - without her, really, _there_ \- to guide them, the system ran its track, as programmed, as intended. The treatment capsule - heavily customised, but even at base, one of the most expensive medical rescue devices ever made - did not care how much its patient _screamed_. It had its orders, and it executed them, its patient conscious, or not.

_It will end_ , she would think, when she could think, when she had enough firewall, enough distance from the fire, from the changes, even as they enveloped her, even as she changed herself. _It will end._

And then, one day, she became again aware of time, and knew it was a day, and that there was, in fact, a thing called a _day_ , and that there was in fact a person named Olivia, or Sombra - Sombra, now, far more than Olivia, but then, hadn't that been true for a while now? - and that this person was _her_.

_Oh, yeah_ , she thought, _Sombra. I know. Me. Sombra, the self-made. I almost forgot. I... **am**._

Somehow, the darkness had become lighter, almost bright. Her cybernetics informed her that the sequence had run to completion. That she was in the tail of recovery. That her body temperature was down to a mere 38C, and that her firewall was up and holding. She felt emotionally drained, and physically...

_I never thought being this numb would feel this good._

She checked her position. On her back, in theory. Rotated successfully, two hours ago. No sign of rest irritation. Moisture sprayer to the right. She turned her head, carefully, and found it with her mouth, taking a fine mist of water into her mouth, wetting her tongue, wetting her teeth, wetting her gums. It felt like a taste of ambrosia, and she took in more, almost crying in ecstasy, as much as the machine would allow, until she swallowed and it did not hurt.

She turned her head back, facing what should be up.

_Why can't I see?_

She thought a moment, and then another. _Because your eyes are closed, you idiot,_ and she almost laughed.

She opened them, and above her, in the reflective glass of the capsule's lid, amethyst-gold eyes looked back at her with stunning clarity, and even through the remaining pain, she smiled. "They're... beautiful..." she managed to breathe, before she fell into unconsciousness.

Eighteen hours later, she awoke, this time waking from actual sleep, from the strangest dreams she'd ever imagined, and took a breath, and it smelled, oh, it smelled like heaven, the chamber had opened, and she moved, and every movement, every motion - so quick, so precise, so perfect, so effortless - felt like release, like divine liberty itself, telling her, yes, yes, she could do _anything_ , and she laughed, clear, and sharp, and long. _Oh, oh, Satya, now... now, I **know**._

But she didn't know, not really. Not yet. She only thought she did. Actual knowing - actual knowing had to wait, wait until she saw Satya again, in Utopaea, beautiful Satya, her platinum eyes wide, running towards her as she landed, beautiful Satya taking her hand, nuzzling, kissing it, and then, and she found herself doing the same for her lover, only then, only _then_ , did she finally, truly understand.

\-----

When Sombra revealed herself to the rest of the ‘Gods’ - and she did it in the most theatrical way possible, bursting into spacetime above the Ministry, the sky turned purple and limned with silver light - she'd expected Moira to be furious. She was right - at least, at first.

"I can see the stress markers. You didn't sleep through a moment of it, did you?" Moira had said, shaking her head, tutting softly. "I barely made it through _one_ without sedation, let alone the entire suite." She'd looked up into the trickster goddess's eyes with something akin to awe. "You're lucky to be alive."

"I don't suppose you kept any records," Angela had said, preparing the first nanite fleet - the only part Symmetra hadn't been able to provide. "Moira may be surprised you're alive, but I'm surprised you're _sane_. If you have any other data you're willing to share from the emergency medical module..."

It was... weird, honestly. The way that she slipped so seamlessly into the group, almost as if she’d had a place waiting for her the whole time. She was invited to meetings and gatherings now and then. Satya made sure to keep time open on her calendar for her. Danielle had even brought Emily over to her new place in Oasis for a night that turned into something between a housewarming party and one of their old Movie Nights.

Sombra hadn’t expected to be _accepted_ so easily... by most of them, at least. 

She _really_ hadn't expected _Lena_ to be the one who reacted the most harshly. Maybe some bad blood over stealing the translocator tech from Winston, sure, but not Lena actively avoiding and shunning her, refusing to so much as speak with her for a _month_.

She asked Danielle what was going on, but the spider just shook her head, refusing to take sides.

She knew Tracer was _around_. Sombra had figured out fast that the Weapons didn’t spend much time apart unless absolutely necessary. But if Sombra showed up for a meeting, a lunch date, even just stopped by to see what Widowmaker was up to on a boring night, Lena would be gone... or if absolutely required to be present, she’d stand at the farthest opposite point of the room, glaring at her.

The first words Lena finally said, one night, when the hacker showed up at the Weapons' apartment at Oilliphéist's invitation, were angry. “We could have been there for you. We _should've_ been. It’s hard. I _know_. You didn’t have to go it _alone!_ ” She stood there for a moment, shaking, furious, before she wrapped herself around the once-hacker, holding her, tightly, so warm, kissing her neck, once, before leaning back, looking through copper eyes into Sombra’s bright amethyst-gold. “...but... I’m really glad you’re here, now.”

Then she jinked back, just a metre, and shouted, “Now never do anything that bloody stupid again!” before she teleported away.

Sombra just stood there, trying to process it all, when a cool blue hand lightly patted her on the shoulder, and tipped her head towards the kitchen table. "C'mon."

“She cares,” Emily explained, as she sat and poured tea from across a small selection of exquisite chocolates bought for the occasion. “She's forgiven you, mostly, but - she _always_ cares. Not just about us - about _everyone_ , really. Maybe too much. Try to remember that.”

**Author's Note:**

> To follow this story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual eddas or sagas.


End file.
